Not Forgotten
by RyuFanatic
Summary: A long time ago, they used to be friends. But after Alfred loses his memories of Ivan and Ivan moves back to Russia, they forget one another. When they meet again at a world conference, only hatred forms between the two. *Sucky summary;; T for bloodshed*
1. Prologue

Note: This fanfic is uber melodramatic. You have been warned.

*Taking long break from _Russia Memoirs_ fanfic and attempting to continue/start/finish this one xD *

* * *

**Not Forgotten**

* * *

_**Prologue**_

_The garden was located__ behind the house shed,__ conveniently covered by a dense collection of leaves and bushes. In the square clearing, dozens of blooming flowers were packed around the edge, and their sweet-smelling aroma drifted with the wind. The fountain in the center spewed clear, crystal water into the air, and the drops of liquid splashed on the face of the six-year-old hiding in the bushes. His brilliant blue eyes widened at the cool touch, and a huge grin formed over his face._

Vanya will never find me!_ the boy named Alfred thought happily. _This is the best hiding spot in the whole area. _He hummed to himself, never staying still, and wondered how long it would take for his friend to come. They were playing a game of hide-and-seek, and so far he was winning by 5 to 2. "I always beat Vanya," Alfred smugly whispered, "The hero always wins over the villain." Contentedly, he pulled his legs up to his chest and waited. _

_After__ ten minutes slowly went by, the youth sighed. _Why is he taking so long? _Alfred had always been short on patience and besides, he wanted to play another game after this. One where he would get Vanya to be the evil sorcerer who kidnapped the princess and he would, of course, be the hero and save her and the world from mass destruction. "He's always been a bit slow," mumbled the American boy, "but this place isn't _that_ hard to find, is it?" _

_When thirty minutes passed and the sky had turned a red-gray, Alfred finally stomped to his feet in anger. _He probably went back to the house to stare at Arthur's sunflowers again! _It would be just like Vanya to abandon him for some stupid flowers. _

_The boy quickly dusted his shirt off- or Arthur would complain about the state of his clothes -and sprinted towards the house in a mad rush. He turned a corner and collided into the man himself at the door. "Ah, watch where you're going, ya brat," Arthur complained testily. He was holding a mop and dustpan. _

_"Iggy, where's Vanya?" Alfred demanded._

_Arthur's eyebrows knitted together. "I thought he was with you." _

_"No," the boy couldn't keep the whine out of his voice. "I think he ditched me."_

_"You're looking for Ivan, Al?" Francis appeared behind Arthur, lugging a box full of candles. "He's locked himself inside his room. The mail came with a letter addressed to him and when he stopped by the house to look at the sunflowers, I gave it to him. He's been up there with it ever since."_

_"But Vanya can't read, can he?"_

_Arthur paused from wiping grime off the porch and raised an eyebrow. "He can," the Englishman lightly reproached Alfred for his ignorance, "His uncle taught him."_

_"__Oh vraiment?" Now it was Francis's turn to raise his eyebrow. "The kid's what? Seven? And he can read full letters from an adult, in Russian and English?"_

_"Yes," Arthur said in that know-it-all voice of his. "I heard that the education is very rigorous in Russia-"_

_"Where is his room again?" Alfred interrupted Arthur before he could get into a long-winded discussion about the education system._

_"Third room down the first hallway." _

_Francis frowned absently. "But Al-"_

_The boy sped into the house before Francis could finish. He ran down the familiar oak corridors of his and Arthur's home, all the while thinking of ways to punish Vanya. "What's so important about a stupid letter that he'd ditch me?" Alfred grumbled. "Besides, today's his last day too..." Tomorrow, Vanya was going back to Russia; he'd only stayed in the United States to play with Alfred for a few weeks. _

_When Alfred finally reached Vanya's room, he was almost afraid to barge in. Sometimes, Vanya started acting weird and scary, and on those occasions, it had been because Alfred entered his room without permission._ But_, the youth suddenly thought, _this is _my_ room! _Just in case though, Alfred gave a warning before rushing in. "Vanya, I'm coming through!" he shouted and shoved the door open with a bang._

_What he saw made him back up instantly. _

_Vanya, big-boned yet gentle, sweet Vanya, was stabbing his right arm with a pen. Over and over again. Blood pooled around him, and his eyes, once a light lavender-blue, were now dark and menacing with hatred. On the ground, soaked in red, was the crumpled letter, and every few seconds, Vanya's gaze would flit to it. He didn't seem to take notice of Alfred, and it was all the five-year-old could do to force himself not to run screaming to Arthur or Francis. _

_Instead, he willed himself to take a step towards Vanya. _He's my friend... Besides, I'm a hero and I'm not afraid of anything!_ the boy thought. But he still couldn't stop trembling. "Are you okay?" Alfred whispered when he was within five feet of his friend. He reached an arm out to touch Vanya. _

_The Russian child flinched from the contact and those horrible eyes finally landed on the American._

_"__**Уйди**__," Vanya whispered. _

_Alfred started at the menace in Vanya's voice. Why was he being so mean? What was wrong?  
_

"_**Письмо...**_" _Vanya continued, and his eyes narrowed into slits as he stared down at the piece of paper. "I hate it."_

_"What are you saying?" Alfred cried out. _

_"__**Уйди**__," he repeated softly. "__**Тебе будет больно**."_

_"Talk in English! __I don't understand you...__" Tears welled up in the American's eyes. __"You're always doing this.__"  
_

_And suddenly, at the sight of water streaming down his friend's cheeks, Vanya's own eyes widened in surprise. They slowly lost their darkness and he leaned forward to hug Alfred. "Why are you crying, da?" the boy asked Alfred soothingly._

_Alfred blinked, confused at his change of attitude. __He stared into Vanya's innocent face, and thought, _Why does Vanya have to act like this all the time?_ He felt the wetness of blood on his back from the hug, and wondered why his friend wasn't screaming from the pain of stabbing himself with a pen. There was something so oddly _missing_ from Vanya that it caused a chill to run up Alfred's spine. Before he could stop himself, he'd blurted out with, _ _"I'm crying because... __you scare me__." _

_The shock and hurt in Vanya's eyes made him regret the words instantly. The Russian recoiled from Alfred and backed up against the wall. His violet eyes had suddenly become a shade duller.  
_

_"No, I didn't mean that," Alfred hastily said. "I'm sorry, Vanya." No response. "I really am."_

_There was a silence, broken only by Arthur's shouting from the kitchen below. "You brats better get ready for bed!" the Englishman called sternly._

_"Yeah, we should go sleep," the blonde one said in a nervous voice. Uncertainly, he rose to his feet, his gaze never leaving Vanya. _

_"You go sleep," Vanya said quietly. "I will sit here and wait for sunrise."_

_Alfred didn't know what else to say except, "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow morning then..." _

_He was almost out the door when Vanya spoke up again, "I'm leaving for Russia tomorrow. And I'm never coming back here again."_

_..._

_"Why?" _

_Alfred hadn't meant for his voice to come out so sad._

_Now, finally, Vanya smiled, but it was a weary one. He looked so much older than seven years old. "Uncle Ioseb says I shouldn't play with you anymore. Since times are getting bad and he needs to train me for the upcoming years. __He will train me for war__._

_"And," Vanya added softly, "he also said that, one day, we will become enemies."_

_Enemies. _

_The way Vanya stated it, bitterly cold and resolute, in such a solemn and adult voice, made Alfred tremble inside. His smile was weak, but when he opened his mouth to reply, he tried to match the reassurance in his head with his tone. _I am not afraid. And I know that Vanya and me would never hurt each other._ "We're friends!" Alfred said brightly. "We're not enemies, Vanya. And we won't ever be. So don't listen to Ioseb, whoever he is."_

_The innocence was back on the Russian boy's face. "Really?" he asked, almost pleading. "Will we always be friends then, Alfred? (Ioseb is my uncle, by the way...)"_

_"Of course we will," Alfred smiled a real smile this time as Vanya moved closer to him. He pulled the large, yet child-like boy into his chest and hugged him. "But I'm tired now," Alfred yawned. "Let's go sleep, Vanya."_

_"__**Да, ** but I think we should clean up first..**"**_

_"Oh yeah."_

_They both stared at the bloody mess on the floor._

_

* * *

_

_That night, after Arthur had tucked both boys into bed and switched off the lights, Vanya found himself staring at the ceiling. Minutes passed and he still couldn't fall asleep. Turning to his left, he glanced at the boy beside him, who was staring back too. "I can't sleep," the bigger one complained. _

_"Maybe I should sing you a lullaby then?" _

_Vanya smiled. "Can you sing __'Polushka Polye'__?"_

_"It's that weird song you keep humming to yourself, isn't it...?"_

_"Da."_

_"...So, how does it go again?"_

_Vanya was thoughtful for a second. "I think it's like this," he finally said. _

_"Polyushko-pole, polyushko, shiroko pole,_  
_ edut po polyu geroi,_  
_ eh, da krasnoi armii geroi.__.._

_"You try," he grinned at Alfred. "Or are you too scared to?" he teased at the look on Alfred's face. _

_The boy instantly fired up. "A hero is never afraid!" he babbled, eyes sparkling. "Here I go!" _

_..._

_Uhmm. "Pole...pokyusha..poles.. polelo...suroyko...poles..-"_

_Vanya couldn't stop laughing; he almost fell off the bed and pulled Alfred along with him. "Thank you," he gasped out when he finally caught his breath, grinning at the pouting, hurt look on Alfred's face, "Now I really can't sleep!" _

_

* * *

_

_Morning came too soon. When Alfred woke up, Vanya had disappeared and he could hear talking in the kitchen. Quickly, he leapt out of bed, hoping he hadn't missed anything important, hoping that Vanya hadn't left while he was sleeping._

_"He's still here," Arthur smiled, amused, as Alfred flew into the kitchen and glanced around hastily. "I think he's talking on the phone with his uncle."_

_He let out a sigh of relief. "Okay, good."_

_"Bonjour, tête endormie," Francis greeted him cheerfully. "Worrying about young Ivan so early in the morning?"  
_

_" 'Morning, Francis," Alfred ignored the second part and got a slice of hamburger bread from the counter.  
_

_"Umm, Alfred?"_

_The boy glanced up questioningly at Arthur._

_Arthur's eyebrows were scrunched up more than usual and he was frowning. "About Ivan... I think you should listen to his Uncle Ioseb."_

_"Huh? Why? Did he say anything important?"_

_Alfred's stupidly empty expression made Arthur's vein pulse. "The thing Ivan told you last night...?"_

_Alfred suddenly gasped. "You eavesdropped on us!"_

_"Yes, but what I'm saying is that-"_

_"Francis!" the youth was indignant. "Tell Iggy he can't do that anymore!"_

_"Nonono," the French man shook his head. "He had a good reason to, Al." _

_"You're bloody right I did! After hearing everything that boy said..." Arthur sighed and when he looked at Alfred, his green eyes were clouded. "Ioseb doesn't play around. And when he demands something, he is very serious about it. Do you know what he wrote to Ivan?"_

_"No," the child pouted. "I tried to read the letter last night after Vanya went to sleep but it was all sticky with blood and in the weird lines and shapes."_

_"Well, Ioseb called me this morning..." Arthur rubbed his temples. "He was screaming, telling me that he was already on his way here to put up Ivan, that he was tired of his boy coming over to this 'moronic, ill-raised' country. _

_"Alfred." His guardian went down to the boy's eye level and hugged him. "You shouldn't be friends with Ivan anymore. Someday, you will go to war with him and then you two will hate each other. It's best if you break your friendship off now, better than facing the pain later on." But Arthur knew the depth behind his words didn't reach Alfred. The American was a only child, immature, and considered the present to be his primary worry, not the future._

_"That's not funny, Iggy," was the huffy response. "Of course Vanya and me won't ever go to war. We're best friends!"_

_Arthur glanced at Francis, who shook his head. "Okay," the Englishman smiled weakly. His Alfred was just too young to realize it._ Things will be harder for him after this day.

_"Privet! What are you guys doing, da?" Vanya entered the kitchen and Arthur noticed the forced smile on his face._ I wonder what he talked to Ioseb about...

_"We were just going outside," Alfred grabbed Vanya's sleeve and, casting Arthur a dark glare, dragged his friend towards the garden. _

_The morning was a fresh, springy one, and the water from the fountain glistened in the cool air. When they reached the small garden, Alfred let go of Vanya's arm and waited for the Russian boy to catch his breath. "Let's play a game," he smiled. "The game we were supposed to play yesterday but couldn't."  
_

_Something flashed across Vanya's face. "Nyet, Alfred... I can't. Uncle Ioseb is coming to pick me up soon..."_

_"Already?" Alfred frowned. _

_"Da. He said... he does not like me being here too long. He says it _worries_ him." _

_"Oh. That's kind of stupid. You're safe here."_

_"Da." _

_Alfred was at a loss of words for once, and all he could was stare at the sky, the fountain, the flowers; anywhere but at Vanya._

_"The flowers are so pretty," Vanya suddenly said. His voice was cheerier. "Especially the sunflowers." The boy reached forward to touch the petals of one, and his eyes grew wide with delight._

_"Why do you like sunflowers so much, Vanya?"_

_"Because they are very pretty, and very pure, da?"_

_"It's kinda girly to me," grumbled Alfred. But he leaned forward and plucked one right from its roots, flinging it in front of Vanya's confused face. "If you like them so much, why don't you take one?" the American youth offered. "Makes no sense to just look at them."_

_"Arthur will get mad, da?"_

_"Nope. I own his house and him, remember?"_

_Vanya laughed and took the flower. "__**Спасибо**__**, **Alfred." _

_"... There you go again with your weird language!"_

_"I can teach you it someday. It's only fair, since I know _your_ language." _

_Alfred groaned. "I'm already struggling to learn the English alphabet, Vanya!"_

_There was a silence as Alfred watched his friend stare__ at the sunflower. Vanya's face was in awe, as though this was the best experience in his entire life. Alfred felt a sudden lurch in his chest as he realized that, in a few minutes, he would never see Vanya again. His thoughts flashed back to the letter and the Russian's hatred at it. "Uh, Vanya?" _

_"Da?"_

_"Can you tell me what happened last night?"_

_Startled, Vanya glanced up. His eyes suddenly became cold. "Nyet, Alfred. I do not want to talk about it." _

_"But-"_

_"Alfred, Ivan! You two come back, Ioseb is here!" Arthur's voice rang in the air. It was strained and urgent. _

_"Let's go back, da?" Vanya was all smiles again._

_"No, wait. Please tell me," Alfred pleaded. "I want to know why you act like that all the time." _

_The violet in the child's eyes shifted to dark blue. "Because you are scared of me, da?" _

_"N-no... I just-"_

_"So you are her__e, **отродье**__." The deathly cold voice behind Alfred interrupted him. From out of nowhere, a tall man with a cruel visage and dark eyes emerged and placed a hand on the Russian child's shoulder. _

_Vanya's eyes suddenly grew big with fear. "Privet, Uncle_**_ Иосиф,_**_" he whispered, trying to keep his voice from wavering. _

_"__**Иван**__, what did I tell you about playing with the American child?"_

_"You told me not to." Vanya stared at the ground. _

_"Yet you are here, talking with him, joking with him, _playing_ with him... and what is __this **мусор**?" Ioseb snatched the sunflower from Vanya's hand and threw it on the ground in disgust._

_Alfred hadn't like this guy from the beginning, but now he was angry. "Hey old man, that's not nice!" He scooped up the flower and handed it back to Vanya. "Don't worry, we can get you another one," he told the boy, smiling.  
_

_Ioseb's eyes narrowed as he watched Vanya return the smile. He did not like this American child, did not like idiotic way he talked, or the bad influences he had on Ivan. _

He will be the death of my country_. _

_Before anyone could move or say another word, Ioseb had raised a hand in fury and, shouting, "**отродье**! Do not talk with this child!", slapped Alfred in the face. The force of his blow swept the child off his feet and into the air. He landed on the edge of the stone fountain, head slumped forward; blood was a given, unconsciousness was instant. _

_"Uncle!" Vanya screamed and clawed at Ioseb's arm. "Why are you doing this to my friend?!" He reached to help Alfred, but Ioseb pulled him back. _

_"We are leaving now, __**Иван**__," the man said, dragging the child away from the garden. "And do not think I will ever allow you back here again!"_

_

* * *

_

_Five hours later, when Alfred woke up to the concerned faces of Arthur and Francis, his head was throbbing and his body ached. _

_"Hello," he smiled sickly at his guardians. _

_"Dieu merci! The boy is fine." Francis sighed. _

_"What happened to me?" Alfred asked. "I feel like I just got trampled on by a horse."_

_Arthur's eyebrows knitted. "You don't remember what happened?" _

_The American child thought. He remembered vague images of a man and another boy, and they had been arguing. But he couldn't put the face or the name of the boy in his head. "No. Am I supposed to remember something?" Alfred asked at the startled look on Arthur's and Francis's face. "Something important?"_

_"Does the word 'Vanya' spark anything in your mind?"_

_"Vanya? Is that a new brand of cars?"_

_Arthur exchanged glances with Francis. _This child... doesn't remember?

_"Iggy," Alfred pouted, but winced at the rush of pain from his head. "Tell me."_

_"Vanya is your-"_

_"Yes," Arthur hastily interrupted Francis. "The model just came out, it's very stylish." He ignored the Frenchman's incredulous look. _

_"So you're telling me I got run over by a stylish car?" Alfred's eyes widen in delight. "I must be the first one, right? So cool!"_

_Arthur sighed. Only an idiot child like Alfred could think getting run over was cool. _

_"But now, it's time for you to rest," the Englishman sternly made him lay back down. "You've had enough drama for one day."_

_"Okay!" Alfred said. He was getting a bit tired anyways. "Good night, then..." _

_"Goodnight." Arthur's eyes softened as Alfred slept, then grew cold with anger. _

_Ioseb... What kind of man would hurt an innocent six-year-old? It made him seethe in fury. _

From now on, Russia, the country and the people, will never be in my good graces again.

* * *

_And so, after that long night, Alfred woke up in the morning cheerfully content. The sun was shining and outside, he would play in the stone garden, watching the water stream out of the fountain. At first, he felt a strange, sad ache in his chest as he stared at the flowers surrounding him. But then, slowly, it would pass, and Alfred left the garden with no memory of it ever occurring. _

_No memory of a boy named Vanya, a man named Ioseb, or a country called Russia. _

_

* * *

_

* * *

Translations

Russian:

**Уйди **= leave

**Письмо** = the letter

**Тебе будет больно **= You will get hurt

**Да **= yes

**Спасибо** = thank you

**отродье **= brat

**Иосиф **= Ioseb (Joseph)

**Иван = **Ivan

**мусор **= garbage

French:

_Oh vraiment _= Oh really

_Bonjour, tête endormie _= Good morning, sleepy head

_Dieu merci!_ = Thank God!

* * *

_Tada~ Finally done. :D Again, not sure if the Russian words are right. -stares hopefully at **RusCSI** if you're reading this- As for the French words, if experience has taught me about online translators, they're probably wrong too. C: Please tell me if you see any mistakes._

_I know someone used 'Polushka Polye' in a fanfic already, but I just LOVE that song and was listening to it the whole time while writing the story XD so yea, had to put it in there ;3 _

_Also, I feel like their ages are out of character from the way they act in this story... n_n How say you? _

_Review, da?~~  
_


	2. Chapter 1, Part 1

Oh my, this part turned out more silly than serious, I think xD

I couldn't bring myself to write too much morbidity in this chapter. And it's short too cuz I got a bit tired and rushed, since school's tomorrow...

Also, I didn't want to leave this chapter hanging by itself in my upload box so I decided to just publish it and split Chapter One into two parts. C: Sorry.

So this is part 1.

Alfred is so stu- silly;; it's kinda fun to write in his pov. xD

* * *

**Not Forgotten **

* * *

**Chapter One, Part 1  
**

_Time: About some centuries later (Remember, they _are _countries C:)_

Alfred was sleeping in bed when his living room phone began an annoying high-pitched nag. _It's Iggy, it's Iggy!_ the phone seemed to be saying with each malevolent ring. Alfred had to admit that the creepy sound emitting from it _was_ something that Arthur would do; he probably bewitched it with his stupid voodoo magic. "But I don't want to get up!" Alfred groaned and tried to drown out the noise with his pillow.

It was a nice, early Monday morning and he'd been planning to sleep in. Just the usual, really: Sleep late for about four hours, wake up in time to play video games before eating twenty servings of hamburgers, chugging down ten milkshakes, and then proceeding to go to Arthur's house and mess with him. _The life of an America(n)_, Arthur sighed dreamily. _Is perfect. _

_Iggy is going to murder you! Iggy is going to murder you! The conference is today! It's today!_

... Did he just hear right?

His phone, his God-knew-how-old, rustic phone that wasn't even wireless, was telling him that today was the first World Conference meeting?! The first meeting between all the countries of the world, the very same meeting that Arthur told him he shouldn't- no, _couldn't_- miss or else there would be one too many scones waiting for him when he came home, was today?...

Alfred flew out of bed, blankets whipping behind him, and answered the phone. "Hello! Alfred F. Jones, American hero, speaking!"

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU, YOU STUPID TWIT?!"

Hm. Someone was angry.

"I'm just getting ready, I'll be right over in a few hours!" Alfred answered cheerfully. He heard cursing in the background, a _"Dammit, he just woke up, Francis!" _and a light-heart chuckle in response. "Ummm, by the way," Alfred muttered, "Where's this meeting going to be again?"

Arthur exhaled into the phone. "Ya git, didn't I tell you this yesterday? The building's in central Manchester, the one called 'World Conference Building', remember? (it's pretty obvious by the name...)"

"Iggy, (shut the hell up, you scone-eater) you know I have a bad memory! But anyways, I'll go get dressed. If I, the hero, am not there, everyone might give up in despair and wonder if some nuclear war had broken out or something-"

"You have about twenty minutes before the conference starts," Arthur interrupted. "Where are you, anyway?"

"Uh... that weird hotel near your house?"

"What the-?! It's gonna take you hours to get here then! Traffic is bloody hell in that section-"

Alfred pulled the phone away from his ear as Arthur began a long-winded rant/lecture/both and yawned.

"... Anyways, you're wasting time talking to me! Hurry up and get here!"

Alfred could imagine him slamming the phone down in anger. The American smiled brightly and started to his room. "I wonder what I should wear!"

* * *

Fourty-five minutes, twenty-two seconds later, Alfred sprinted through the glass doors of the _World Conference Building _building and after checking with the desk-assistant about the location of the meeting room, took another five minutes to get there. Outside the oak door, he could hear talking, shouting, exasperated sighing, snoring, and etc. from within, and for once, Alfred was a bit nervous. This was the _first_ world conference, and he wanted to make a good impression on himself and his country. Showing up late wasn't really part of that plan... "Alright!" Alfred whispered, "I'm not afraid!" He smoothed back his hair and burst into the room.

"Haha, hello everyone!"

All eyes glanced up to stare at him.

Damn. Why'd he have add the 'haha' Arthur claimed was 'the most retard thing that ever came out of his mouth'?

"Ah, America," Arthur raised an eyebrow, using Alfred's nation in reference to him. "You're finally here, ya git?"

"_Bonjour, mon chéri_," Francis winked at him from beside Arthur.

"Haha (he couldn't stop it!), yeah," Alfred mumbled nervously. He quickly scanned the people present, only able to put names on some of them. He recognized a couple of Asian nations, like Korea and Taiwan, China... and, he racked his brain at the random blonde-head near the end, Canada... his _brother_, right? The young man smiled shyly when he caught Alfred's eye and waved. Alfred smiled back and raised his arm to return the greeting when he blinked and Canada _disappeared_. "Whoa! What the hell?" he shouted. "Where'd Canada go?!"

Everyone cast their attention his way again. "Do you want to sit down, now?" Arthur said dryly. "And what are you talking about?"

"Canada! He was just beside China!"

"What? Is there a person next to me, aru?!" The black-haired Chinese glanced nervously to his right, and upon seeing no one (important and therefore invisible to everyone else) there, glared at Alfred. "That wasn't funny, aru!"

"Please sit down," Arthur sighed, tired of Alfred's random outbursts. "So we can start the meeting that's been overdue for about thirty minutes now."

Alfred quickly glanced around the table. Everyone seemed perfectly content with their seats, since they basically knew each other or had a friend at the meeting. He didn't really know many nations, just Arthur and Francis, and those two hadn't even bothered to save him a seat! Finally, after a lengthy silence (everyone was waiting on him to sit down so they could start), Alfred found an empty seat next to a tall, silver-blonde haired person, who, even though he was part of the group, seemed out of place. _Maybe_, the American thought, casting a sly glance at the giant,_ he's an outcast in here, like me._

"Alright, so let's start." Arthur shuffled papers on the table. "Well, since today's our first ever World Conference meeting, I think we could start by introducing ourselves?"

Alfred groaned. Leave it to Arthur to make it like some first-day-of-school kind of thing.

"I'll go first then," the Englishman coughed. "As you all know, I'm England, the nation up there above France and Spain-"

"_Mon Angleterre_, I'd rather be the one on top," Francis blew Arthur a kiss.

"Shut up, Francis! I was talking!" Arthur shoved Francis to the side, and he laughed.

_God_, Alfred rolled his eyes. _Why are they so _lame_?_

"Are we going to move on or what, aru?!" China interjected.

"I agree," Japan (Alfred was sure that was him) agreed. "I have some issues to take care of back in my country and I do not have time for this."

Arthur coughed again. "Well, I was trying to talk..."

"I think I shall go next then, da?"

There was a silence as all eyes swiveled to stare at the person who'd spoken. It was the guy next to Alfred. Upon hearing the silver-haired guy's voice, Alfred had felt a jolt throughout his body. _Da... _He had never heard that word used before in his entire life, but why... why was it so _nostalgic _now?

The giant looked at the host for his assent. Arthur seemed on the verge of saying something. Then he nodded curtly, and Alfred was surprised at the coldness in his eyes. "Go ahead, Russia."

"You may call me Ivan, da," the Russian smiled brightly. He stood up and, oblivious to the unease in the air, said, "I am Ivan Braginski and everyone should become one with me, da?~"

Alfred had tried to contain himself the whole entire time, trying to be a good, obedient country and not open his mouth (because Arthur claimed that the more he talked, the more people hated him), but this was too much. He had to say _something_._ Now. _"I'm Alfred F. Jones!" he blurted out, slamming his hands on the table and standing up, "The American hero, and everyone should become one with _me_! (Not him!)"

More silence. But this time, Alfred could sense that the fear had turned into pity _for_ him. _But why should they feel sorry for me? _he wondered, until he glanced to his left and met the gaze of the giant Russian. Cold, almost insane, violet eyes pierced into him. They were full of uncontrolled hatred, but... for some reason, they were oddly familiar.

"I was talking, da?" the guy- Ivan -said softly. And then, from seemingly out of thin air, he pulled a metal pipe into his hands and continued his stare at Alfred.

"Uh... that's enough!" Arthur rose from his seat and quickly rushed over to the two.

"But I was not done," Ivan protested at the Englishman. His eyes were a tad bit calmer, though his gaze never shifted from Alfred's.

The American was slightly unnerved. _Why does he keep looking at me like that? Should I apologize? What did I do, exactly? _He couldn't understand why Ivan had given him such an intense look of loathing... and why he should care..._ I don't!_ he finally decided as Arthur managed to convince Ivan to sit back down and remove the metal pipe from the table. _I don't even know this person! _

After another brief silence of discomfort, the meeting continued with no more distractions. Alfred chose to ignore the person beside him, but it was kinda hard when that certain person kept staring daggers at him, and it wasn't like he was secretly glancing over at that person too... he just knew he was being stared at. Finally, he couldn't stand it anymore and whirled around to glare at Ivan. "What are you doing?" he said, keeping his voice down so not to attract attention.

"Da?" the Russian looked a bit startled.

"You keep looking at me, what's your problem?"_ And why_, Alfred wanted to add, _did you give me that look before?_

"It's a free country, da?"

"We're not in America," Alfred retorted.

Ivan finally smiled, but it was a cold and sardonic one. "I did not know that staring at someone was considered illegal in this country, or better yet, in any other country. As of this moment, I see that you are staring at me. Maybe I should ask 'what is your problem' also?" He titled his head and still smiling, added an annoying, "Da?"

... Damn bastard.

"Just stop it, okay?" was all Alfred could said. "It's creeping me out."

_And that's not the only thing_, the boy thought as he surveyed the giant Russian from the corner of his eyes. _Why in hell does he feel so... familiar?_

_

* * *

_

* * *

Translations

French:

_Bonjour, mon chéri _= Hello, my darling

_Mon Angleterre _= My England

*hopes they're right*

* * *

My bad for the horrible ending. I'm just so wiped out ._.

Reviews, neh? :D


	3. Chapter 1, Part 2

;D Hullo there. I'm on the third part of this story already! (trolls: wow, srsly? me: ikr :3), it's amazing. xD

I hope I can break my "three chapter" curse n_n (I always tend to give up on a story after just publishing three chapters...)

Anyways, I just wanted to thank **RusCSI** again for the right Russian translations on the first part. :3 You're freaking awesome for putting up with all of that Dx

&& Alex, who always supports my boring attempts at writing *less than three* Mkay, -shuts up now and lets you read the 2nd part-

* * *

**Not Forgotten**

* * *

**Chapter One, Part 2**

"Gah, who the hell did that guy think he was?!"

Four hours later, after the tortuous, dull conference, Arthur had agreed to treat Alfred to lunch at some fancy English restaurant. "Only because I felt bad for making you sit through that," Arthur had said when the American jokingly teased him for being so 'nice.' Personally, Alfred would rather have dined at a first-rate, A-class place (like McDonald's or something) than sit in a stuffy chair in a stuffy, snobby English restaurant. Everyone who happened to look his way seemed to be glaring at him with eyes hidden behind bushel of eyebrows thicker than Iggy's. Besides, they were playing some annoying song called "Pub and go" and the melody made his skin itch- the singer sounded horrifically like Arthur.

"Ah, what are you whining about now?" Arthur lifted his eyes from reading the menu and frowned.

"That waiter! He just so ignored me when I called him over!"

"Maybe he didn't see you."

"I was waving my hand like this"- Alfred demonstrated exuberantly -"and I was mouthing 'Over here, over here!' really loudly; want me to show you? Because I swear the people five tables away could hear me, but that waiter didn't... That's why I got suspicious, you know?"

"I see..."

"Hey! Hey, you!" Alfred turned his attention back to a brown-haired waiter, the exact one who had 'ignored him', and Arthur was pretty sure the American had no idea it was the same man.

He sighed and buried his head deeper into the menu. Sometimes he wondered why he ever bothered to invite Alfred out to eat- it always ended up in embarrassment for him. People would give him odd looks, as though wondering why a perfectly decent English gentleman was babysitting an American brat.

"And what would you sirs like for lunch?" The brown-haired waiter had finally relented and could only manage a grimace at Alfred.

"Um." The idiot didn't even bother to glance over at the menu before replying, "Hamburger please. Or is it _humburger_, in your language?"

...

_Humburger...?_ _In __your_ language_?  
_

What the hell?

"I'm sorry but I do not believe we serve anything of that sort here; I will get back to you. And now, what about you, sir?" The waiter turned to Arthur.

"Hmmm." Arthur glanced down at the menu and ordered some weird, intangible object that Alfred couldn't pronounce.

"Now," the man sighed and brought his attention back to the American, "have you made up your mind, sir?"

Alfred nervously glanced at Arthur. _--No hamburgers?_ he asked.

_--No... I told you this before we came here, you git._

_-- ...Then I won't eat. _

_-- Dammit, Alfred. Did I really raise you up to be such a brat? Just order something!_

"... I'll have the same thing he's having," Alfred mumbled gloomily.

Seven minutes later, their meal arrived, and Alfred balked at the huge, piling monstrosity on his plate.

Arthur couldn't help but laugh at the horror on the American's face. "Just try it. It's not gonna hurt you."

_I hate Iggy._ Alfred thought sullenly. _Iggy sucks. I hate him. He's so selfish. He should have brought me to Mickey D's. I hate Iggy-_

Arthur finally sighed and put his fork down. "Alright, Alfred. I'm _sorry_, okay? Next time you can pick the restaurant _and_ pay for the meal, eh?"

The American made a noncommittal grunt.

Arthur had to smile helplessly. "Geez, you've never stopped being a problem child, have you?" _--Can you please grow up, Alfred?_ was what he really meant to say.

"I probably got it from you!" Alfred retorted, crossing his arms. --_Not until you shave off your massive growth of eyebrows_, the younger one replied.

Five minutes into their meal, Alfred decided that the food really wasn't that bad and forgave Arthur. Besides, he was wondering what they would do after this. "So Iggy, what are we doing after this? I didn't come all the way to Manchester just for a boring meeting, ya know!"

"Well, I was thinking of going somewhere with Francis..."

"Oh! Can I come too?"

Arthur was pretty sure Alfred had no idea that he would be the very obvious third wheel if he went. And although the Englishman couldn't say no to such a puppy-dog, clueless face, there was one piece of advice he could add. "Sure... But Alfred, don't you think you should be making some friends?"

"Huh?"

"You once told me that you were going to be the largest, most powerful country in the world, right?" Arthur paused to smile, knowing the slim chances of _that_. "How do you plan on doing that if you only have me as a friend?"

Alfred thought, unconsciously reaching for a basket of bread that he hadn't noticed earlier. "Francis is also my friend," he pointed out. "And Canada is my brother, so that makes him on good terms with me automatically."

"Francis is a nobody," Arthur informed him. "And who the hell is Canada?"

Alfred chose to ignore both comments and busied himself eating. Finally, after realizing that Arthur was still staring at him with an obvious disgust and impatience, answered, "I'm fine, Iggy! Why do you worry so much? I'm sure everyone'll be begging to be my friends in a matter of days now! I am the hero, after all, and they're going to need a hero's help, aren't they?"

Not for the first time, Arthur wondered if Alfred had come from Francis's nation- he was too resolutely _slow _to be from England. He coughed. "Uh, right."

When Arthur eventually finished his dinner and Alfred reluctantly agreed to stop shoveling bread down his throat, they left the restaurant feeling exhausted. For the Englishman, it was the thought of coming home and then getting ready to go somewhere else, _again_. For Alfred, it was just a stomachache.

Arthur tried to hail a cab, but when it proved impossible at such a busy, traffic-filled afternoon, they submitted to walking back to the apartment. Alfred half-listened to Arthur's talking/ranting/lecturing/all of the above as they walked, but his mind was mostly preoccupied with the events of the morning. Full and slightly content now, the American could force himself to think of the conference... and its failure to meet his expectations.

For starters, it wasn't 'fun' like Arthur promised it was going to be (of course, he shouldn't have taken the Englishman's words for it in the first place). And there was the awkwardness... Alfred had to admit, when he'd first entered that meeting room, even if he was scared, he was at least expecting a hello in response to his. But they hadn't given him anything- not a nod or a welcoming glance, and only Canada (who he was starting to doubt existed at all) acknowledged him. He'd dismissed Arthur's worry about him not having any friends, but now it slightly tugged at him. _Friends, huh? _Alfred always considered himself a happy-go-lucky kind of person, someone that people would _die _to become friends with. Yet he realized that, after years of being stuck in an ominous mansion in a remote village in England, struggling to gain independence from Arthur decades later (...something he didn't like to think about much), and trying to piece back his life and Arthur's friendship, he hadn't had much time to become familiar with any other country. Or become aware of anything else in the world.

_And then there was that Russian. _Alfred narrowed his eyes in contempt as he remembered the man, and their broken, hate-filled, whispered conversation...

* * *

**_Flashback, About five hours and 42 minutes ago:_**

_"Just stop it, okay?" was all Alfred could said. "It's creeping me out."_

And that's not the only thing_, the boy thought as he surveyed the giant Russian from the corner of his eyes. _Why in hell does he feel so... familiar?

_"Is that why you decided to sit next to me, da?" the Russian replied, smiling his demented smile again. "So you could annoy me with your stupid American gibberish?"_

_Alfred had had enough. He was usually an easy-going person, someone very hard to make angry, but for some reason, he found it difficult to contain his anger when talking to Ivan. "You're really starting to piss me off!" he hissed softly. _

_So far, the other members of the conference hadn't notice the animosity between the two... or the rusty pipe that Ivan had managed to bring back to the table again._

_The Russian had an eerie, blank look on his face at Alfred's words, but then he blinked and the smile returned. There was a crazy edge to it. "Did you say something, da?" he murmured, slowly petting the faucet pipe. "Something that might possibly risk your life, America?"_

_... _

_"U-uh, Art- England!" Alfred jumped to his feet. "I'm going for a bathroom break, o-okay?" _

_Arthur glanced over at him, surprised. "I guess-"_

_Alfred had already sped out the room and into the hallway, his heart beating heavy in his chest. _

_But no matter what he did, he couldn't stop picturing the look on Ivan's face... That empty, maniacal expression, holding nothing but hatred.  
_

He_, the American realized, _kinda scares me.

* * *

"Hello? Did you just die or something? Alfred... Hey, are you okay?"

Confused, Alfred squinted his eyes, then blinked. He tried to focus back to the present, wondering if it was really Arthur standing in front of him and not the crazy Russian. Finally, with a shiver of relief, he exhaled and smiled at the now concerned look on Arthur's face. "I'm fine, Iggy! Never better!" Alfred glanced around them and found that they were back at his hotel already. "Why my place?"

"Francis said he'd pick us up here." Arthur's eyebrows scrunched together in their usual worrying way. "Are you sure you're okay, Alfred? The way you were staring into space just now... so blank and whatnot. That was freaking creepy-"

"I said, I'm _fine_." Alfred's eyes softened just a little. "You worry way too much, Iggy. Why don't you save it for someone who actually needs it? (like Francis)"

Arthur's gaze quickly changed back to their condescending, annoyed look. "Hmph. I guess that's the last time I try to be nice, ya ungrateful brat.

"Come on, let's go in and see if we can get a nap or two in before Francis comes here..."

"Hey Arthur," Alfred said quietly as he entered the house and the Englishman flicked the light on. A thought had just occurred to him.

"Hmm? ...Ugh, this place is so messy." He began to pick up the clothes and empty fast-food wrappings flung haphazardly around the room.

"...Russia."

Startled at the mention of the country, Arthur glanced up from his cleaning. "What?"

"Russia," Alfred repeated and stared at Arthur intently. "I just realized... where the hell is it?"

...

* * *

And so, the Englishman had to pull out his pocket-size world map and patiently explained to his unfortunately... _inapt_ friend that Russia was quite possibly the largest country on the planet and that it was hard to miss, and that it was currently ruled by communism. "Also," Arthur added when he finished exhausting the landmass and climate changes of the country. His eyes narrowed into sharp, green orbs of disgust. "I dislike Russia with all my heart. And you should too."

* * *

**A/N: ***stares* I just found out what A/N stands for! so cool! I always wondered.. n_n-starts using it more now-

Yay, no (incorrect) translations to apologize for this time :3

By the way, I hadn't planned for Arthur and Alfred to be telepathic towards each other but I guess those two are too freakin' awesome to not be, eh? XD

This part is kinda short too but combine it with part 1 and_ tada~_ ;D && I must admit it sounds forced (because it was! Dx);; I really just wanted to get to Chapter 2,

to tell you the truth ;^;

Anyways... Reviews, maybeh? C:


End file.
